Giving Her Away
by arliddian
Summary: Logan finds that giving Rogue away doesn't necessarily mean giving her up. Post-X3 oneshot.


**Giving Her Away**

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><p><strong>Summary: <strong>Logan finds that giving Rogue away doesn't necessarily mean giving her up. Post-X3 oneshot.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own anything.  
><strong>AN:** Prompted by **scribblemyname**: _Rogue __asks Logan to walk her down the aisle. He'd promised to take care of her, so he has to give her away._

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><p>He tugs roughly at his collar and cuffs, flexing and clenching his fingers. He's not used to this monkey-suit business. The X-Men leather, that's one thing. A <em>tux <em>is another.

He hesitates outside the door, taking a moment to breathe and listen to the sounds coming from inside the room: the rustle of silk and lace, her deep breathing, the sound of her high-heeled shoes on the floor as she turns and walks around. He can practically feel her excitement and anxiety radiating under the door. He knocks softly and hears her pause.

"Time to go now, darlin," he calls, then steps away to wait.

It's only a few seconds later that she opens the door, and Logan is struck dumb by the sight of her. In her long satin gown, the elbow-length gloves, her hair swept up in an elegant twist with strands of white framing her face, the veil draping softly down her back and a small bouquet of creamy roses and lilies - she looks more than beautiful. She looks ethereal.

She blinks, gripping her flowers tightly, unnerved by his silence. "What?" she asks, tucking an errant strand behind her ear.

He swallows down the unexpected lump in his throat and smiles at her. "You look beautiful."

Her returning smile is soft, almost shy, and he is struck once again by the realisation that this lovely woman standing before him is the same person as the frightened waif he swore to look after all those years ago.

"Thanks," she says, giving him a once over. "You're lookin' pretty good yourself, sugah."

Logan grunts, tugging at his tie to loosen it . "'M not letting you talk me into doin' anythin' like this ever again."

The tension in her shoulders falls away as she laughs, and he allows himself a small smile, pleased to have eased her nerves even if it was at his expense.

"I promise," she assures him, gently pushing his hand aside and readjusting his tie herself with a smile. "I ain't plannin' on doin' this a second time."

"Hm." He gives her a piercing, searching look, unable to stop himself from trying to take care of her. He knows that the gloves are more than just elegant decoration and that her powers have been slowly and insidiously reasserting themselves. He knows how much it will cost her to join herself to another person while the threat of a life without touch hangs over their heads like the sword of Damocles. He can't help wanting make sure that she is doing what _she_wants and not just because it has been asked of her.

Years of friendship have taught her how to interpret his normally inscrutable expressions. She slips her arm through his and looks straight into his eyes.

"I'm happy, Logan," she tells him, sincerity in every syllable. "Really. I'm gonna be okay."

He continues to search her eyes, and she holds his gaze without wavering. Finally, he relents with a short nod. She smiles, obviously though inexplicably relieved, and he realises that his opinion still matters to her more than anyone else's.

"Okay," she says, squeezing his arm once more and rearranging the skirt of her gown. "Ready?"

"If you are."

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><p>The music swells. Arm in arm, they step forward.<p>

Logan looks straight at Bobby, waiting for them at the end of the aisle, and his heightened senses detect everything the young man is feeling: his sharp intake of breath at the sight of his bride-to-be, his elevated heart rate, the scent of sweat on his palms, the look on his face - wondering and proud and completely head-over-heels in love.

He glances down at Marie beside him, and sees that same look reflected in her eyes. Her smile is radiant. She walks slowly beside him in time with the music, but he can feel the tension in her muscles - she is eager to rush on ahead into the arms of her waiting fiancé. Her heart is beating at almost exactly the same rhythm as Bobby's.

A pang of some hard-to-define emotion rushes through him. He has spent so many years taking care of her, always ready to defend and protect her, long after she had proven that she could look after herself. Now she will no longer need him because she is creating her own family and walking her own path. She will have another man better-suited to taking care of her because she has chosen to give her heart and life to him - a man who Logan knows will, like himself, lay his life down for her if needed.

With each step, he feels like she is somehow slipping away from him, even though he can feel the tight grip of her fingers on his arm and the brush of her gown against his leg.

They reach the top of the aisle, and she stops and turns to Logan. Pulling him close, she embraces him tightly.

"Thank you," she whispers in his ear. There is a wealth of emotion laced into those two syllables, and it is this that reassures him that, although he will no longer be her primary protector, he will always have a place in her life, in her heart.

He kisses her softly on the forehead. "Good luck, darlin'. He's a lucky son-of-a-bitch, don't you let 'im forget it."

She laughs and kisses his cheek. "I won't."

Logan smiles as she turns to take Bobby's hand, and he steps back to take his rightful place in the background, watching over her and waiting until she decides she needs him again.

_Fin_


End file.
